Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 257(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
I hum. “Yeah, that’s Pammy Gore. She went to high school with my older brother, Barrett. She got the implants their senior year. It was a huge scandal.”
“It’s still a scandal,” Sprout mutters. “I’m embarrassed for her.”
“You’re a funny kid,” I say with a huff of laughter.
She scowls. “I know, but I’m not trying to be funny right now. I’m worried. I love Binx so much. Our house feels so cozy and happy when Binx is there. She belongs with us. Even my chickens love her, and Hilda, Henna, and Hermione are very picky. They won’t sit and snuggle with anyone except me and Binx.” She sighs. “And I know my dad will be so sad later, when Binx marries someone else. He’s making a huge mistake, but he won’t listen to me about it because I’m just a kid. He told me if I said another word about him dating Binx, he wouldn’t invite her over for game night anymore, so I’m completely stuck.” She lifts pleading, emerald-green eyes to mine. “If I can’t find someone to help me, all of our lives will be ruined.”
I shoot her a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, but—”
“Three lives,” she cuts in, her eyes widening. “Maybe four because Pammy will hate being in our family.”
“Maybe she won’t,” I offer, though I still think she’s jumping the gun with this Pammy stepmother fear.
“She will,” Sprout insists, adding in an ominous tone that’s a little disturbing in an eight-year-old, “I plan on being a real pain in the butt to any stepmom who isn’t Binx.”
I huff again and shake my head. “I see why Binx loves you. You’re just like her when she was a kid.”
Sprout’s face lights up with a joy that makes my heart hurt a little. “Really?”
“Really,” I assure her. This kid truly adores my sister, and I know Binx feels the same way. And just from watching Binx and Seven chat beneath the tree for a few minutes, it’s clear that they’re meant to be. They communicate with the ease of old friends and have the kind of chemistry that gives off sparks in the darkness.
And if age is truly the only barrier…
“So, he has a date Friday night, you said?” I ask, even though I know better.
I can’t meddle in Binx’s love life. She really will kill me. She’s a kind, generous big sister who loves me, but she’s also independent to a fault. She wants to do everything by herself, with no help from anyone else, especially a bratty little sister who used to steal her clothes and read her text messages while she was sleeping in on Saturday mornings.
“Yes,” Sprout says, perking up. “And I know which restaurant and which movie. We can get there first and set booby traps.” She chuckles. “Get it? Booby traps? Because Pammy has giant gazoombas?”
I snort. “Yes, I get it. But no, we’re not going to booby trap anything. We’ll have to set a different kind of trap, one Binx and your dad won’t see coming, and that we can deny having any part of if the mission fails.”
She nods, her eyes narrowing. “Yeah, that’s good. I don’t want to get in trouble. I’m already in trouble from tonight.” Her brow furrows. “Sometimes I don’t think things through as much as I should. It’s a problem.”
“It’s okay,” I say gently, falling a little in love with this kid myself. “You’re only eight. Your frontal lobe is a long way from being fully developed.”
“What’s that?” she asks, looking suspicious.
“A part of your brain that deals with executive functions like problem-solving and planning ahead. You’ll get better with those things as you get older.”
“I’m already smarter than most teenagers,” she says. “My cousin Jack does way stupider things than me on a regular basis. He ate laundry detergent one time on a dare and had to go to the hospital. And he never reads anything except captions on the videos on his phone. Grammy says his brain is going to rot straight out his head, and that if she were Uncle Nolan, she would take his phone away until he proved he wasn’t an idiot.”
“I would, too,” I agree. “I wish someone would take my phone away. I hate it, but I can’t quit it. I’m too addicted to checking my email.”
Sprout nods seriously. “A lot of grown-ups are. That’s why my dad is building his retreat center. So people can go there and get away from their phones and stuff. He’s going to have a big black box where everyone has to put their phones and computers and they can’t get them out again until they leave unless it’s an emergency.”
“Yeah, Binx mentioned that,” I say, my brain cogs catching and spinning in a new direction. “He bought the old Boy Scout camp outside of town, right? The big one?”